


If you were civilised, you'd know better

by Voidromeda



Category: Borderlands (Video Games)
Genre: Cutting, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Strangulation, Unhealthy Relationships, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-29
Updated: 2019-07-29
Packaged: 2020-07-25 19:41:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,248
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20031286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Voidromeda/pseuds/Voidromeda
Summary: Rhys gets called up to Jack’s office; a normal occurrence. He expects Jack to fuck him on the desk or whatever, like he usually does. But Jack doesn’t do that, no– he leaves a mark on Rhys in ways that will never ever go away.





	If you were civilised, you'd know better

**Author's Note:**

> I cannot find the original publication of this fic.  
This fic is being uploaded for my own archival purposes.
> 
> Original prompt by my friend, Jenna:  


When Rhys hears a buzzing in the back of his head, a notification from Handsome Jack, he immediately assumes it to be another one of the man’s calls for sex. He looks at the message from a projection on his hand and sighs when he sees that he is being called up to Jack’s office. Yvette and Vaughn look up at him from their food—Vaughn looking miserably concerned, and Yvette just gives him a rather tired look.

He smiles apologetically at them, stands up, and excuses himself to go back up to his boss’s office to see _what _exactly he wants with Rhys. With a roll of his eyes, Rhys makes an unspoken bet with himself that it is prooobably sex again.

That man is insatiable for being so god damn old, but he did bring him back to Helios so now he has to deal with the man’s insatiability as best as he can. Jack definitely has to be taking something for it, or whatever, because Rhys thinks it’s a bit ridiculous how often Jack calls him up.

The trek to his office is painless and uneventful. People steer clear from him and try not to pay much attention to him and the elevator ride up to Jack’s office, though irritating with the new mind-numbing jingle that Jack had installed, is quick.

Rhys knocks on the door a few times and before he scans and lets himself in without waiting for Jack to usher him in or whatever. If the bastard didn’t want him now, then tough luck. Rhys is staying. The doors slide shut behind him and the odd serenity of the office embraces him as he makes his way inside.

The statues stare up into the ceiling and the gentle rushing of the waters causes him to slump his shoulders and relax. Self-gratifying as this office is for Jack, Rhys can’t help how… comforting it feels. The dim blue lights embracing everything, a view of the moon and its disastrously beautiful scar, and the vastness of the office is…

Is a gentle embrace in comparison to Jack’s rough fingertips.

Perhaps he’s just going crazy from having to deal with Jack and everyone else in the spaceship. He holds back a sigh and makes his way towards Jack’s desk, the new gold of his arm gently glowing in the darkness of the office, and he stands before the desk where the back of Jack’s chair is facing him.

“I’m here.” Rhys says, arms crossing in front of him when Jack doesn’t seem to be acknowledging him just yet. He rolls his eyes and begins to tap his foot on the floor until the asshole notices him. A minute or so passes before Jack turns around to face him, his expression odd and unreadable as he stares into Rhys and he raises an eyebrow in response. “You ready to get goin’ Jack, or what? My lunch break ends in a few and I really wanna ge-“

Jack ends up interrupting him, his hand wrenching open his desk drawer. “Lie down on the table. Face up. Right now.” His voice is… is odd. It drips with acid, possessive and cruel, and Rhys flinches. He is about to obey the command until Jack brings a knife – sharp and dangerous looking, more suited for combat than anything else – and Rhys freezes up.

His footsteps suddenly seem so loud as he takes a few steps back and Jack is on his feet in response to his defiance. The chair spirals away from him and tips back and falls, and Rhys yells as Jack grabs his arm and throws him onto the desk.

“What the _hell _did I say, cupcake?!” Jack hisses as he slams his fist into Rhys’s cheek and the other has to bite his lower lip to not give Jack the satisfaction of his pained noises. “I told you to _lie down_on the table, not _back the hell away from me!”_

The knife is only being held a small distance away from him, a threatening presence that Rhys can’t look away from. “Ja-Jack,” he manages out, the panic settling deep in his chest, “what is the knife for?”

At his question, all the anger seems to drain away and, instead, is replaced with a manic joy as a wide grin spreads on his lips. “Oh, Rhysie,” Jack strokes his face, his swollen cheek specifically, and Rhys flinches, “you’re going to learn that _now._” His voice is shaky with need and desire, and Rhys does something stupid.

He tries to scramble away from Jack. The man stabs the knife next to Rhys’s head and his fingers wrap around his throat. The thumbs press down, hard, and Rhys is immediately clawing at those hands. “Princess,” Jack hisses, “behave yourself. I don’t want to mess this up, or it won’t be _good._”

Desperately, Rhys wants to beg Jack to stop but he can only stare as Jack with black spots in his vision. A burn spreads through his nose and his face feels awfully numb.

He’s going to d-

Jack lets go of his throat then and grabs at the knife again. With his free thumb, he traces an upside down… v on his face and terror grips Rhys’s chest tightly when he finds himself unable to meet.

Beneath Jack, he’s completely frozen with fear. “W-wh—what are—you going to _do?_” He hates the way he stutters, the way his voice cracks, and Jack just grins widely. Jack presses the tip of the knife, gently, into the flesh of Rhys’s right cheek and Rhys can only stare at him with wide eyes. “Jack—I’m—I’m sorry for whatever I did just, please, please don’t do this—please _don’t do this, _whatever this—this is—_Jack, please—_“

“Shh.” Is the only thing Jack says before he gets to work.

* * *

It feels like hours have passed. His throat feels awfully raw and his face _burns. _Blood is trailing down the sides of his face and he’s sobbing, sobbing into the blood on his face and hurting with every facial movement because this—this isn’t—

_This isn’t fair._

Jack throws the knife away and it clatters, far too loudly, on the floor of Jack’s office and Rhys’s eyes are closed. The vault hunter symbol burns on his face and the air against his exposed flesh makes Rhys want to run away.

If he can get to the medical wing of Helios on time, get away from Jack, then he can—he can fix this. He just needs to get there _quick,_as quickly as possible, and run as far as he can from Jack and—and—and moonshot himself back to Pandora, because this isn’t-

_This isn’t fair!_

Tightness grips his heart and his stomach is flipping, over and over, and the need to vomit up his meager lunch is clawing fresh at his mind. Jack is pressing kissing to his face now, licking over his wound and murmuring praise into him.

_I hate you, I hate you!_

But Rhys can’t do anything as Jack starts to remove his pants and briefs, thumbs rubbing soothing circles on his hips, and Rhys _hates him hates him hates him._

He hears the sound of Jack’s zipper being undone and Rhys can only cry as Jack barely preps him up before he’s pressing in.

In the quiet of his office, Rhys sobs and whines as Jack moans and takes and takes and takes some more.


End file.
